Moving to stand between her knees, Clint worked his way down her neck, over her collarbone, before she sharply pulled his head back to meet his eyes. The movement was rough, and something flashed in his eyes as he held her steady gaze, the air between them once again electric. Then she was moving in and he let out a small grunt when she bit his lip.

Good thing they had left their fake personas at the door. Clint had had enough of playing the shy guy, and he certainly had played the gentleman enough for one night. Grabbing Natasha’s hips he pulled her forward to the edge of the table, pressing her hard against him. “Honey, I am up for pretty much anything,” he said, his voice low and rough, before capturing her lips in another bruising kiss.